


The Setting Sun

by orphan_account



Category: Historical RPF, Literary RPF
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Josephine and Napoleon have a conversation about their marriage.





	1. A discussion

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this is from an AU where famous dead people are brought to the future. Slightly different from the rifts? Basically, Josephine and Napoleon are married and they go to the wedding of Franz Kafka and Arthur Wellington, which is some context for a part of the story. I have a ton of stories planned for this AU but who knows if I'll actually write them.

Josephine didn’t understand how she had gotten here, sitting at her battered dining room table, watching her marriage fall apart. Of course she knew the logical steps that had led her to this precise moment in time, but she didn’t quite understand where they had gone from perfectly happy, married couple to whatever the fuck they were now.

 

“I just… I don’t understand why you would,” Josephine said. Her eyes flitted away from Napoleon’s; she couldn’t bear to keep eye contact.

 

“Well, it wasn’t like you were completely innocent, too,” Napoleon said, sulking. Byron shuffled in his seat. Josephine sent him a glare that read _you aren’t going anywhere_.

 

“But why did you choose to do it?” Josephine said, almost pleading.

 

Napoleon wasn’t certain what had caused him to suddenly veer off course. Maybe it was how attractive George had been at his friends’ wedding. That may have been it.

 

~~~

 

**_Four months previously_ **

 

“I’m George Byron, pleased to meet you,” Lord Byron said, flirtatiously. He winked as he shook Napoleon’s hand.

 

“Oh! I’m Napoleon, and likewise,” Napoleon said, almost blushing at the obvious advance.

 

“Fantastic! So, you have to tell me, whose side of the wedding are you here for?” George said, sitting down at the bar. Napoleon sat down next to him, slightly nervous. 

 

“I’m an ex of Wellington’s,” Napoleon said, while ordering his drink.

 

“Oh Arthur Wellington! I can’t stand the guy if I say so myself,” George replied, waving his hands wildly.

 

“Is that so?” Napoleon mumbled.

 

“It is in fact. Even while I was alive the first time I couldn’t stand the man,” George said.

 

“When exactly were you alive?” Napoleon asked, his voice full of cautious curiosity.

 

“From 1788 to 1824 to be precise,” George responded. He looked down into his drink.

 

“Interesting. So you know of the Napoleonic wars,” Napoleon said, preening a bit at the thought of having something historical named after him.

 

“Of course. I have in fact written a few poems about you in particular,” George whispered into Napoleon’s ear. Napoleon blushed.

 

“That’s… rather interesting. Perhaps I will have to read them sometime,” Napoleon said.

 

“But of course!,” George said. “Here, have my business card. Feel free to visit me any time.” He slid a small rectangle of creamy-white paper over to Napoleon.

~~~

 

**_Present day_ **

 

“I suppose that… he was just… there. In a time that I was vulnerable. You know how relationships are,” Napoleon said to Josephine. 

 

“You certainly weren’t vulnerable at the wedding,” Josephine retorted. She fiddled with her own wedding ring, mentally preparing for the day when she wouldn’t be wearing it anymore.

 

“Well we never really did anything at the wedding. It was only… afterwards.”

 

~~~

 

**_Two months previously_ **

 

“Why hello!” George said, opening the door to his apartment with a flourish. “What brings you here today?”

 

“I’ve had a… disagreement with my wife. I’ve been thrown out of the house a bit, and I decided that now was a good time to visit,” Napoleon said, ambling into the apartment.

 

There were books and stacks of papers shoved into every nook and cranny possible. The main room that Napoleon could see contained three desks, each more cluttered than the last. The kitchen off to the right had dishes stacked in the sink, as well as more books stacked around the counter. The place was a mess. A charming mess albeit, but a mess none the less.

 

“Please excuse the mess,” George said, looking around the room. “It’s rather difficult to keep a place clean when you have three roommates.” A look on Napoleon’s face must have changed because George then followed up with “They aren’t here currently. John and Percy are somewhere trying to find a date or something.”

 

“Of course,” Napoleon said.

 

“Now with the poems!” George exclaimed. “I happen to have them in my bedroom, so if you’ll follow me,” he said while opening the door.

 

George’s bedroom was less cluttered than the main room, however various books and papers still cluttered the room. The bed in the center was rather large, yet it did not appear to have been recently used. The pair sat down on said bed, and George began to read his poems. Napoleon just stared at him the whole time, not knowing how to react. Finally, George finished the fifth poem.

 

“So, what do you think?” George said, winking.

 

“Wow, that was…. something,” Napoleon said, almost breathless.

 

“Napoleon,” George said.

 

“Yes?” Napoleon replied.

 

“Are you the sort of man that is… shall we say… initiated?”

 

“Initiated?” Napoleon said, confused.

 

“Of course. I always forget what figures of speech have changed. In my lifetime, initiated referred to one that was used to the company of men,” George said, clarifying.

 

“Oh,” Napoleon said, realizing what exactly George was saying. “Yes. If you were willing to… you know…”

 

“Of course I would be,” George said, leaning in for a kiss.

 

~~~

 

**_Present day_ **

 

“You went to his house after our _minor_ argument? About how you cannot run for PTA president because you do not have a child!?” Josephine said, her temper rising.

 

“Well… yes,” Napoleon replied.

 

“And I’m assuming that this wasn’t a one-time thing,” Josephine accused.

 

“Well, no,” Napoleon said.

 

“How… often… would you…,” Josephine asked, half terrified to know the answer. She didn’t have the courage to finish the sentence.

 

“On Tuesdays I would go to the university to give my lecture, and on my way home I would stop past George’s house for some… attention. On Thursdays, he would come over here on his way home from his own job at the university,” Napoleon explained.

 

“In our house? In our bed!?” Josephine said.

 

“Well, where else were we going to!?” Napoleon shouted in response.

 

“Why not just forgo the whole affair altogether!?” Josephine shouted.

 

“You aren’t exactly innocent either,” Napoleon said in a low, accusatory tone.

 

“Well, I suppose not,” Josephine sighed.

 

~~~

 

**_One month previously_ **

Napoleon was late yet again. 

 

Josephine was quickly becoming tired of her husband’s failure to arrive to his own house in a timely fashion. What was worse, he always returned with extremely messy hair and several new bruises on his neck, which Josephine knew for a fact that she did not inflict. It was incredibly suspicious, and at this point is was more of a question of “with whom” than of “are you?”

 

She continued to tap her fingers on the marble countertop when she suddenly came up with an idea. She put on her coat and her shoes and she marched out the door.

 

Ten minutes later, Josephine had arrived at her favorite bookstore, which was within walking distance of her house. Her idea was to buy a book about botany or interior design or something to take her mind off of her husband’s almost certain affair. 

 

After about 10 minutes of shopping, she accidentally stumbled into the astronomy section. She was about to turn and leave when she, on accident, literally bumped into another patron. This mystery customer dropped everything in their arms as a result of the collision. Books slid across the floor, alerting everyone in the shop that something had just happened.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, let me help you,” Josephine said, crouching down in an attempt to make up for her unusual mistake. She usually was not this clumsy.

 

“No, no, I think I’ve got it,” the patron said. Josephine looked up from the ground to see a beautiful woman staring at her.

 

“Are you sure?” Josephine asked, trying to act normal.

 

“Yeah,” the strange woman confirmed. “I’m Hypatia by the way.”

 

“Interesting. I’m Josephine,” she replied.

 

“Well, thanks for helping me with my books,” Hypatia said, walking away. Josephine watched Hypatia pad out of the bookstore, kicking herself for not asking Hypatia for her number.

 

The next day, Josephine went to her job at the botanic gardens at her regular time. She was checking on the rose exhibit when she saw the same woman from before. Hypatia was lounging on a bench, reading some sort of book. She was wearing a cream-colored sundress, and a pair of Ray Bans was nested in her hair.

 

“Well, hello there Hypatia,” Josephine said, approaching the bench.

 

“Oh! Hey! Great to see you again,” Hypatia replied, smiling. She set her book down on the bench.

 

They began to talk about what had brought them to the town, and once it became apparent that both had been brought to the future, they began to bond over that as well. At one point, Josephine told a mildly bad joke, only to see Hypatia laugh loudly. Josephine decided that she loved her laugh.

 

“Well, since I keep seeing you again, why don’t we go get coffee or something after I finish my lecture,” Hypatia suggested, while packing up her book.

 

“Your lecture?” Josephine asked, confused.

 

“Oh! Of course! You don’t know!” Hypatia said. “I work at the university; I teach math. I’m going over there right now, actually.”

 

“Oh how lovely! Perhaps we shall meet there,” Josephine suggested.

 

“It’s a date!” Hypatia said, enthusiastically.

 

~~~

 

**_Present day_ **

 

“I don’t understand,” Napoleon said. “How did you not have sex with her on the first coffee date?”

 

“Well first off we had to confirm if it was an actual date and not just a friendship thing. Straight people are a thing. Then of course is the detail that not all of us are sex driven orangutans who will just decide randomly to have sex all of a sudden,” Hypatia interjected, frustrated at the entire situation.

 

“Hey, the heart wants what it wants,” George said, faux-apologetically. Hypatia shot him a glare.

 

“But this was going to be your first time?” Napoleon asked, incredulously.

 

“Well, yes. I wasn’t expecting you to be home, I mean you do have a very poor track record of arriving home on time,” Josephine said. “I would have heard all the… noise… that you and George were making if I hadn’t been wrapped up in my own affair. It was never my intention to walk in on my husband having an affair while engaging in my own… scandalous actions.” 

 

After this, there was an awkward silence, and the occupants of the table exchanged several awkward glances before anything happened. 

 

“So what do we do?” Napoleon asked, slicing into the silence.

 

“I suggest that you perhaps stay with George or your friends tonight. So that way we can have some space. And tomorrow we can discuss the matter further when we’re both more realistic about the matter,” Josephine said, standing up. She decided that the conversation was over, given that nothing more was happening. There was nothing left to say; the collapse of the marriage was as certain as the setting of the sun.


	2. Hypatia and Byron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hypatia and Byron argue and discuss the future of Napoleon and Joséphine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha it took my forever to update this but whatever.

“It’s rather unfortunate that Napoleon and Joséphine are having such a heated argument,” George Byron said, swirling his beer in his hand while turning towards Hypatia. 

 

“It’s rather unfortunate that I’m stuck in this bar with you,” Hypatia sniped back, thoroughly annoyed that she’d agreed to leave that horrible conversation about fidelity and the future of a marriage she’d unwittingly half-wrecked, only to come to what was possibly the worst dive bar possible in the entirety of the town. With none other than George “Sex-Driven-Orangutan” Byron. 

 

“Oh, but there are so many wonderful opportunities here. Why don’t we go back to my apartment to… explore our options,” George said, in a voice that, to Hypatia, seemed even more flirtatious than usual. And that was saying something.

 

“Not a chance. You know I only like women,” Hypatia grumbled. This idiot had made more moves on her than she could count. With a second thought, she added another thought: “And don’t you have like four roommates or something?”

 

“Oh don’t be so harsh, beautiful. I have two roommates, with three people in the apartment including me. They’re probably out anyway, and even if they were home, it’s only a minor complication,” George said. Hypatia turned away from him to face the battered pool tables tucked into the corner of the room. 

 

“Only a minor complication!? What the actual fuck,” Hypatia said. Unlike the others, she had come to this town only speaking Ancient Greek and a passable amount of Ancient Egyptian, which proved to be a large complication as far as communication went. She’d spent about a year holed up in the classics department of the university learning English; However, university students were prone to curse and use more slang than the general populace, leading to her brash language in certain situations.

 

“I see I’ve misspoken,” George said, looking down at the sticky counter. Hypatia sighed loudly.

 

“You think?” She said, slumping into her chair. “What does Napoleon even see in you.”

 

“I make far more advances than his wife does,” George said, to be met with a glare from Hypatia. “Hey, I only speak the truth. I’m also probably far more exciting in bed as well.”

 

“I doubt it,” Hypatia said. She pushed her almost-destroyed chair back into the bar, and started to leave the bar. She of course picked up a breath mint on her way out—she loved the flavor of peppermint.

 

“Where are you going?” George said. He followed her quickly out of the bar, after slapping down an amount approximate to what their drinks had cost.

 

“I. A place,” Hypatia said. She didn’t actually know where she was going. She’d just sort of stormed out in frustration. Frustration with Byron and with Napoleon. Frustration with her José and with the entire messed up situation. Why’d a mysterious crazy scientist have to resurrect a bunch of people from the dead. It would’ve caused a lot fewer problems. She wouldn’t have to deal with this person who kept flirting with her no matter the road blocks. Including sexual orientation.

 

Then she remembered how wonderful Joséphine was. It wasn’t like Joséphine was perfect, not by any stretch, no. But she was beautiful, and honest, and she knew what she liked and didn’t, and she knew how to talk to everyone in a graceful way. Hypatia was still clumsily working to master English (why the hell did she have to be resurrected in a fucking American town where everyone spoke English? It made everything way harder than it needed to be). 

 

And of course she’d wanted to sleep with her. Why wouldn’t she? Joséphine was gorgeous. But the affair that Joséphine had told Hypatia about turned out to be true. Right when they were about to do what exactly Hypatia had been wanting to do for a month. 

 

“And where would that place be?” George said. For once, Hypatia noted genuine curiosity in his voice. Well, that was new.

 

“I. I don’t know. Somewhere I can wash the image of you, naked, with José’s husband, out of my head for good,” she replied. 

 

“Hey, I never intended for you to… see that part of me?” George said. Hypatia stopped to glare at him, and then kept going. At that point it became clear to her than her feet were leading her to the botanical gardens. They were Joséphine’s favorite place.

 

“So what? Anyway, your actions made José so upset. You should have seen her last week,” Hypatia said. They’d reached the gardens, and Hypatia opened the door. Byron squeezed through the closing doorway.

 

“You of all people saying such a thing?” Byron said, raising an eyebrow. Hypatia used her membership to enter; George had to purchase a ticket.

 

“I. You. You should see José when she smiles. It’s something else,” Hypatia said softly. She didn’t know how to reply to George’s accusation. She knew deep down that it was true—she’d ruined a marriage. 

 

“I see,” George said. They found a bench in the rose garden and sat down. 

 

“I. I wonder what’s going to happen to them. And their relationship,” Hypatia said. She looked at George, worried.

 

“They’re not staying together, that’s clear,” George said. “One member having an affair, I see that all the time, not a big deal.”

 

“And I’m assuming you’re the cause of the affair most of the time?” Hypatia said, accusatorily. 

 

“Well, yes,” George responded. “At any rate, both members having an affair? I mean they were already divorced about affairs in their past life. This is the second time they’ve had this problem.”

 

“Wait,” Hypatia said. “How did you know that?”

 

“Well. I uh. I am. Er was. A big Napoleon fan,” Byron said, suddenly embarrassed by his celebrity crush. Hypatia burst out into sudden laughter.

 

“You’re saying that you managed to sleep with your celebrity crush?” She said, in between laughs.

 

“I suppose,” he responded. “At any rate, they’re probably going to get divorced again.”

 

“What a shame,” Hypatia replied.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to @weasellesly on tumblr for helping me come up with all of these crazy headcanons! Please don't murder me.


End file.
